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Step by Step/Issue 2
This is Issue #2 of Step by Step. This is the second issue of Volume One. It's You ---- Death happens to be like the stroke of midnight. She wanders the clock, haunts the seconds, and keeps coming. It lurks. It dances, laughs, and breaths. Death is alive, something conscious. She has a beating heart, blacker than dirt taken from the great ash deposits near a campfire. Gather around for her. She sees all as equal, Lyle knew that. Lyle embraced always the new day. He would always awaken before the sun did. For half an hour he had stood at the window of the guest room of the Town Hall in the dark corner waiting for light to arrive to vanquish the deathly night. The morning sky remained dark. He rubbed mildly his naked chest, bare throat, and coughed his morning mucus from nicotine. The hair was thick on the flesh of his face. "You sleep any good?" asked Nolan, his friend at the white countertop of the kitchen nearby. He was preparing the new day's coffee with an Italian coffee maker on the stove. "I slept. You feeling better any?" "A lot, a lot less stress." "Good to take the mind off." The two men breathed the air of a room that had hosted senators and politicians. There was a long bed shared by both that night. On the wall was a painting of the American flag. The walls a beautiful tan and white. Next door was the bedroom shared by Derek and Dennis. With something on his mind, Lyle Jackson continued rubbing his cold flesh with hot fingers. "The money in your account?" "I checked, it's there." "Dennis'll be happy." "Good. I like seeing him happy." "He's got his family waiting." "Bless him, truly." "You know how much he appreciates it." "Right." "It'll help him, the money. His daughter." "For a while, it will. Then he'll be back?" "In what way?" "How long until he comes back?" "Nah," said Nolan. "He'll find a job, correct his life." "I say by the end of the year," said Lyle, and the coffee maker began to howl. "He'll come back to us. Back to me. Ask for another opportunity, another chance to make money. You think he won't, but he will." "You want to recruit him fully?" Lyle swallowed the knot in his throat and licked his upper lip. "Coffee'll be good now," he said. "You'll eat something?" "What you going to eat?" "Coffee and a beer." "Me, a coffee and a smoke or two. You in?" Nolan grinned and prepared the coffee. He served two cups of the hot, black golden liquid. He paused, and then served two other cups. "You want to see if they woke up?" "Don't interest me," said Lyle, a knot tightening in his throat. "Don't interest us." "See about Derek?" "Yeah, I want to see him. Need to give him a few words." Nolan passed him the coffee. "When are we leaving?" Lyle swallowed the uncomfortable knot with coffee. "You good?" "I'm in deep thought." "About what?" "What Rockefeller proposed to me last night." Nolan drunk his cup. The coffee was sweet and bitter. It was hot against his throat and strong in his heart. He pondered for some time this thought which he too had slept on after Lyle had informed him following the meeting with the mayor and his brother. The idea of continuing to work for Rockefeller, an actual mayor and politician, concerned Nolan, so in that his throat was dry on words. Nolan distrusted the politicians. Lyle knew this, which made Nolan even more silent. Here stood the two friends, one waiting for the silent word of the other. The two men locked eyes tight, and Nolan spoke. "He's a bad word." "A politician, I know. We know." "It's dirty." "And safe. He's got connections." "It's dirty operations." "But bulletproof." "You can't trust a politician." "It's not that," said Lyle, chuckling into a little laugh. "It ain't a question of we can or we cannot, but one of should we or not." "Vote for Nobody," said Nolan. "Please, bro." "Nobody will keep his promises." "Don't give me that, please." "Nobody will hear your concerns." Lyle smoothed a smile. "Nobody cares about us." "Vote for Nobody, he tells the truth," said Nolan. "You work with a politician, likes of him, he'll have the upper hand, he'll be three steps ahead of us. Not like now, not like how you do business in the city." "I know. But we'll get the upper hand." "We're staying, then." "Thank you, Nolan." "I believe in you." "And I, in you." Lyle raised his cup to his friend. Nolan touched his cup to his. "Salut," said Lyle. "You'll marry her, won't you?" "Elise?" "Her, yeah." "This coffee, it's great," said Lyle. "Go and call him over here." "Only Derek?" "Send both." Nolan left the room and left Lyle in his thoughts. The air in the hallway was cold and bare. The sun outside was a exhausted beast unfit for the winter. Nolan counted a month before snowfall. He arrived and knocked on the door of the guest room where Derek and Dennis had spent the night. "Knock loud," said Lyle from across the hall. "I will," said Nolan, and he thumped a hard fist on the wooden door. "What for?" said Dennis from behind the door. "Open, it's me Nolan." The door revealed Dennis, a shadow of a man with a pale, unshaven chest wearing only jeans and socks without the shoes. The room behind him was unkempt with the senator's room converted to a pigsty with clothing thrown here and there on the countertops and furniture. "Good morning," said Nolan. "It's not a good day, wasn't a good night at all." "You didn't sleep at all?" "I slept, just not well." "You ate?" "Something with Derek." "He awake?" "Not much. But I can wake him." "We made coffee for both if you to join." "Really?" said Derek, the boy dressed in a congressman's suit, resembling a kid from the church choir on Sunday. He had begun walking towards the door. "You're awake," said Nolan. "And I slept perfect. Now, Jacky called for me?" "For both." Derek met eyes with Dennis. "Let's go get a coffee," said Dennis. "It's getting ass cold, so hurry up," Lyle barked from the other room. The three men moved across the hall and into Nolan's room. "You didn't sleep good?" Nolan asked Dennis. "Not just last night. Ever since I've been here with you all." "The withdrawal?" "Can't be. It's the nerves." "Right." "I didn't answer the door. I was just too anxious, scared." "We're in good hands here," said Lyle, and he smiled warmly to welcome the men. "In this town, we're in good hands." "Hi Lyle," Dennis said. "Likewise," said Lyle. "You'll be headed home soon, yeah?" "They'll be waiting for me, my family." "We'll see to it later today." "Jacky, my coffee?" said Derek. "Patience, child," said Lyle. "Nolan, we were his age once?" "Yeah." "You slept perfectly, Derek?" "I said that." "You hear somebody open your door last night?" "No." "You hear somebody in your room? "No." "Watching you sleep?" "I don't know." "Watching you breathe?" The silence from Derek was thick. "I'm borrowing this," said Lyle, and he produced from his waist the big fat revolver he had picked off a sleeping Derek several hours beforehand. Dennis gasped quickly, but Nolan was unbothered, the surprise null but his curiosity lighting up his eyes, for he hadn't an idea what his friend wished to do next. "You a thief." "Calm yourself, Derek," said Dennis. "You calm his thieving ass." "Stay in a child's place," said Lyle. "You dressed well today, fool." "So?" "You dressed for church time." "I look elegant." "Yeah, you a little handsome," said Lyle, and he patted the revolver and emptied its contents over the countertop by the coffeemaker on the stove. He spaced out the solids, scoring up a tally of six. "Let my shit go, Jacky," swore Derek. Lyle grinned–a shit-eating grin full of glee. "Soon." "Now." Lyle slid just one of them fine bullets into the revolver. "No." "Sure don't look too smart." Dennis said. "Let them be," Nolan told him. "You think?" "I know so." Lyle closed the revolver's cylinder with a click. "How long we known each other for, Derek?" "Give me it back." "Everything will be yours. The money, the gun. The ladies who come with the money, and the bullets in your future, them bullets in your chest and belly. You're a minor thug, me and Nolan, we major ones. You keep the lip up, I won't do anything, but you'll find yourself with some fool like you some day who don't like the lip you got on your face. You feel me, Derek?" "You put my gun down, Jackson," Derek said, subdued. He moved forward another step but Lyle stood firm his ground. "I really mean it," he pressed. A vein in the man's neck bulged to the size of an earthworm, and another grew on his forehead. Derek moved forward, grabbed Lyle by the arm, and shook him thick. "Let me play, fool," said Lyle, and his voice put a distance between him and the kid. "You the fool." "You speak the wrong words." "My gun. Now." "You keep speaking foul, you'll get touched fast today." "Who you threatening?" Lyle smiled and raised the revolver. "No!" Derek shouted in real terror. Lyle had placed the revolver to the side of his own head. Nolan laughed. "What's he doing?" Dennis asked him. "I don't know," chuckled Nolan. "Derek," Lyle began, his grip strong on the revolver. "You've got a swollen tongue. You need to stay in your lane, now today. Tomorrow. Down the line. For your own good, I need you to." "You calling me a rat right now?" "Be cool, fool." "I am cool!" "I used to be you Derek. I said then the wrongs things. Nobody there then to tell me otherwise. I wasn't wise. Now I'm older, to God I feel closer, and sometimes I think I'll burn in hell for the things I done. You feel me, Derek?" "I don't want to." Lyle pulled the trigger with a loud click. "Stop it." "Life's a risk." "It's fate, you bitch." "You crying, Derek?" "No." Lyle pulled the trigger with another click. The terror was anxious on Derek's face, his lips quivering at a rapid pace. "You shook, you afraid." "No I'm not." "I didn't ask you a question," said Lyle, and he pulled the trigger of the revolver with a third click. "It's fine, Lyle," said Dennis. "He understands what it is." "Does he?" Lyle lowered the revolver to the table. "Do you, Derek?" "You going to stop it?" "You a man now, Derek. You became one yesterday. Your hands still be dirty. You wearing a suit, but your hands be dirty. You still dirty. You'll get your share of the money prize, be content. But know that when you leave this town today, I'll stay with you." Derek turned a confused face to Nolan. The friend of Lyle smiled. "Where you live and sleep, he'll know." "Be quiet," cried Derek. "Who you talk to and what you talk about, he'll know." "Is he finished? You all finished bullshitting me today?" "It's a good day," said Lyle. "You learn something new every day, Derek. You must." "Put her down. Give my girl back." Lyle put gun down, momentarily, and made a thin smile. Then the gun came back under his chin and he pulled the trigger twice in quick succession. "Oh shit," swore Derek. "Nolan, I'm heading out," said Lyle, his voice relaxed as he placed the revolver on the countertop. "It was empty!" Derek shouted. "Where you headed?" said Nolan. "Got places to be, people to see, before we might leave." "You thinking we'll stay?" "We might." "Dennis, you staying here or want to head out too?" "That gun was empty!" Derek continued to shout. "I'll stay with the kid," said Dennis. Lyle met his friend Nolan by the door, the skinny trembling Derek standing in his shadow. Nolan touched his friend on the upper arm and nodded in assurance. "You'll come with?" "Definitely," said Nolan. Derek said nothing but sweat in fear as Lyle and Nolan left the room, where to, he had no clue. The moment they disappeared, he dashed for the countertop and retrieved his beautiful fat revolver. "Calm down," said Dennis. "It was empty, don't you see?" "Show me." Derek fumbled to open his revolver. He popped out the cylinder of this gun, the one who had stolen his heart more than any girl, and found it loaded with a single bullet. "There's one in here," Derek said with a trembled throat. "Yeah?" "It can't be," blubbered Derek. "It was the next round in the chamber." "Can't be!" "You must've given off some wrong vibe to him." "What?" "You must've forced his hand on you." "Dennis, help me." "See, now you're scared. It'll be fine, yeah?" "You think?" "We'll get the money. Keep still and quiet. And survive. See our families back home." "Yours, not mines." "We'll drink some of the coffee they got here. Look, they even left the stove on, them rushing on out of here. I'll turn it off, here." "What did I do?" "Go sit and relax a while." "When did I piss him off?" "Just don't do it again." "But what?" "Cross a man who ain't afraid of death, like him." ---- "That boy dressed handsome," said Lyle, walking calmly down the steps outside of the government building. "Yeah, he's a smart kid." "Got a head on his shoulders." "Best he use it." "And them eyes. Use the eyes." "He got the message." "Yeah, he got it swallowed good." They hadn't seen Red Smith on the way out. More importantly, Rockefeller hadn't seen them. Outside was golden yellow light from the street lamps. The morning sky was a frozen black color, unmoving and breathless which the two friends proceeded to walk under on the sidewalk. "What time is it?" "Should be two or three in the morning." "Check your watch." "Check yours." "I ain't have one, that's why I'm asking." "Time for you to get a watch." Lyle elbowed his friend in the rib and chuckled. Nolan looked at the black sky and chuckled too. "It's dark, must be five or six," said Nolan. "I know I slept a good while," said Lyle. "It feels like nine or ten in the morning. Too dark for it." "Just a bad day start, there'll be more." "I think I'll marry her." "Elise?" "We'll go through the back door," said Lyle. "I'll meet her, talk a little there. I want her, somebody like that, in my life." "You'll join Rockefeller?" "He'll join us." "You love her." "True indeed," said Lyle, and the two men continued down the sidewalk under the perfect black morning sky. As they rounded a corner, some neighbors had awoken, several houses lighting up. It was a beautiful neighborhood. Her house was nearby, he could remember. "She's a pretty one," said Lyle. "She a smart one," said Nolan. "A politician girl." "You not mad with me?" "You asking or telling?" "I thought you'd be mad with me teaming with Rockefeller." "Man, it's fine. You take chances," said Nolan, smiling with his eyes. "That's how you got here, to where you are. Where you go, I'll follow." "Don't make me cry now." "You crying?" "Yeah, I be blubbering," laughed Lyle. "Let's proceed. Follow me. "Which house is hers?" "Should be that one with the cut lawn." "All them have fine lawns." "It's the two-storey with the station wagon." "Her car?" "Cousin's, it's no thing. I don't be afraid of him, a little kid," laughed Lyle. He put a hand on Nolan's arm and pulled. "She's there," he pulled gently on his friend's arm, "waiting. She's been expecting me, I know so." "You smiling?" "A little bit." "Smile, it don't hurt." Lyle smiled good. Nolan gleamed. "How old is he, the cousin?" "Just got his learner's permit." "What was it, about Elise, that got you?" "What you mean?" "What caught your eye?" "Her face so smooth, but she hurting on the inside. That's the for real. I peel her someways here and there, I see she's buried herself, emotionally. It hurts when she cry to me, tell me what's going on, her thoughts." "She chose you." "Hell, we didn't bring a rose." "It's fine. "Yeah, I knows. Just my face ought be good." The two men arrived in the driveway of the long, two-storey residence. It was a good neighborhood, Lyle understood. The girl Elise had lived her life here, this town named for her father's family, a white man's kingdom of five-thousand souls. Her mother was a long way gone, something she had dwelled to Lyle on, she deceased like his father. Elise had her curly brown hair, beautiful for a girl of two skins who was picked on years before, her childhood, too thin. Here Lyle stood at her house, and he breathed easy. "You need a rose still?" asked Nolan. "Need you come with me." "I got you," said Nolan, and he followed his friend through the cut lawn to the side fence. They jumped over it and breathed a little while there. It was a fine backyard. There on this side of the house was the back door. Under the morning sky that was still too black, Lyle approached the door with confidence, pulled back, his heart hesitant. He shook in his flesh, his lungs stressed. "You fine?" "Yeah." "When last you talk to her?" "We talked about that guy, you all got yesterday. One we buried." Nolan bit tight his lip. Once more his friend denied his hand in yesterday's hit. Lyle claimed clean hands, but he had overseen the murders smoothly. "How was she?" he asked. "Happy. And she'll be it again, now when she see me." "Knock, man." "I will." "You decided to come see her, don't hesitate." "I ain't the kind of man do girls wrong." "What's that?" "You thought it, I did too, that I'd leave town without stopping to see her. I'm staying." "We're staying." "Yeah." Nolan heard his friend take in rough breath. With his chest heavy, his heart suppressed, Lyle balled a fist for knocking, but before he could, the door began to tremble. The door shook. It opened with the turn of a knob, opening to reveal the beautiful girl of his days. Elise wore a towel over her bare body, her bellybutton exposed, and her curly hair wet against her neck and face. The humidity from the inside was warm on Lyle's face. "It's you," said Elise. "You a sight for mine sore eyes." Elise didn't open her mouth nor part her lips. She stood motionless with a look in her eyes. "You shower?" Elise was terrifyingly silent. "What is it?" said Lyle. "I didn't hear from you," said Elise. "I'm here for you now." "You killed the men." Lyle stiffened. "They did die, yesterday." "And you spoke with my dad." "I did." "You are sick." "What's that?" "I need you out of my sight, please." "Elise, please." "First my dad, and now you!" "Please." "I thought you were better than him," she said. "That you'd say no at the last minute, I hoped, you wouldn't kill for him. But you did, you did it!" "It wasn't me who done it." "I don't want this to be any harder." "Speak, Elise. What you saying?" "I need you out of here." "Elise," stuttered Lyle, reaching to take her hand. "Lyle, please," she said, her cold hand stuck to his in grasp. Her face was wet with tears. "I need you, Elise." "I love you, Lyle." "You're my girl, Elise." Nolan could feel his lungs tense. His heart was missing beats. And then his friend Lyle saw the opening and kissed her on the forehead. "You'e as bad as him," said Elise. "We'll be fine." "Lyle?" "I'm listening. I always have." "I don't need you." Nolan heard the cracking of his friend's heart. "It's you, not me." "But I love you, Elise." "I loved you," Elise said, and she grabbed the door. "Think this through, please." Nolan saw the door shut in Lyle's face before his friend collapsed onto his knees. "Lyle!" "Nolan?" "I got you," said Nolan, arriving at his side. "Nolan, help me, please." "I'm here for you." "I'm not crying," said Lyle, wiping dry his cheeks, his eyes swelling and wet. "I'm hurt, man. It hurts so much." "Show me," said Nolan, and Lyle took his friend's hand and placed it on his heart. "I'm here for you," Nolan repeated, and started to lift him from from his knees. "I'm hurting," Lyle said. The tears were hot on his face. "Where we going?" "I don't know." "We'll go back into town." "It's so dark today, the sky." "Let's see where the wind takes us." "Thank you, Nolan." "Don't give me that. I'm always here for you." "I ain't ever had a friend like you." "Likewise," Nolan said with a throat that trembled with pity. "I want you to know," said Lyle. "I'm here for you too. You're my brother, thank you." Nolan took his hand to his friend's eyes, drying them. "Don't let them see me like this," cried Lyle. "I won't." "Let's go," said Lyle, and the two friends retreated miserably from the house of Elise Smith, one wounded in the heart and the other heart broken. ---- Red Smith drunk calmly his cup of coffee in the restaurant owned by Wayne Arthur, an idiot who claimed to be his friend. Here he had arrived an hour prior. The coffee was hot between his lungs, something that reminded him that he was still alive. Every morning was another day he had scared the shadow of black death away. He smiled now goodly, for death would have to take him sleeping, for it feared him awake. With the warm cup in his hands, Red Smith sat in deep thought. "The day looks ugly," said Wayne over the counter, a wide-chested man with a greasy beard wearing his cook's apron. "It is." "When will it let up?" "The what?" "The black sky, it's too dark for it to be ten in the morning." "Give me another coffee, please." "Eugene, another coffee!" Wayne shouted to his son working in the rear kitchen. "He's not there, sweetie, he's in the bathroom," said a woman arriving to pour Red Smith his coffee. Red acknowledged her with a nod. "Lilian, good morning," he said. Lilian playfully slapped her Wayne on the cheek. "You're harassing the mayor, sweetie?" "I didn't expect him to be here this early," Wayne laughed. "He's always the first early bird, but never this early." "I'm grateful to start the morning with you all." Red Smith continued to sit, massaging his chest, in deep thought. He looked briefly to Wayne Arthur. "You said it's nine?" "About nine. It's too dark." "I'll look into it." "Thanks, mayor." "You've been a good friend, Wayne. Your son Eugene will make you proud." "Soon he'll be running this place." "Maybe the town too," said Lilian. Red Smith finished his coffee and got up from his chair. He had things to do. A new stress pressed gently on his chest. He rubbed there, his heart, as a group of ugly, pale men emerged into the restaurant. ---- The black morning sky was thick over the town. Nolan held his friend tightly as they walked on the sidewalk. For a while they had walked, stepping aimlessly, in the silence of their breaths. Lyle had been dry heaving, his lungs croaking, with no more tears to cry. The sun was a shy girl. Nolan looked to the sky, his eyes sad and tired. "We'll go back," said Lyle. "We'll just have to go back." "To the city?" "I miss the city." "You miss the air?" "I miss the bad air." "You miss the food?" "I miss the bad food." "You'll smoke one here?" Nolan asked, reaching a small bench for one person. He would place his tired friend Lyle here to rest. The day was ugly and he sensed Lyle longed to leave the town, leave Rockefeller, and to leave his embarrassment, but Nolan did fear that he would not be able to leave his broken heart, for that would be weight carried wherever. Lyle smiled in the dark. An hour ago he felt as if he had nothing. With his hands grasping Nolan's arms, he had something. "I'm fine," he said to Nolan. "Tell me, Nolan." "Tell you what?" "What I am." "A good friend of mine," Nolan told him, allowing him to rest on the bench. "Am I someone who you can depend on?" began Lyle, "My mom, last thing she ever did, was hit me here," he said, touching his own cheek. "I can depend on you." Lyle looked to his friend in silence. Nolan touched his shoulder. "You need to be better," he told him. "A better person." "I know." "I'll help you." Lyle placed his hand over Nolan's on his shoulder. "We'll just have to go back," said Lyle, and he got up by himself from the bench. A new confidence tightened his back and chest. "What is this?" Behind them was the front wooden door entrance of a church empty of music. Light glowed from inside through the glass windows. Lyle turned, facing the doors, and to this, he breathed easy. "It's the church." "The one from last night." "Every night." "You'll go inside?" "Yeah." "I'll follow you." "There must be somebody inside," said Lyle, approaching the doors without fear. "What's going on with the sky?" "It's nothing, Nolan. Let's just get in here." "I didn't say that," said Nolan. "What's going on with the sky?" Lyle's voice sliced through the air. "Who's there?" "The sky is still dark?" "Show yourself." The front doors of the church opened. There stood a woman with fair skin, her brown hair braided, and she was dressed in a pair of dungarees with a white shirt. For a moment Lyle's heart fluttered, but he caught it with a good breath. "You're asking about the sky?" "Is it still how they say it's been?" "It's dark, yeah," said Lyle. "What's it about, you know?" "They say it's been dark. It's morning but dark as night," said the woman, her voice trembling. Lyle observed her close. "I don't know why it's still dark." "Are you scared?" asked Nolan. "Well, aren't you?" The lady turned to face his voice, but her eyes seemed to roll off him. Nolan scrunched his eyebrows. "What are you doing here?" "Please come inside," she said. "I don't want to be alone here anymore." "It's empty inside?" "Yeah." Nolan looked to his friend Lyle. "We'll go inside," said Lyle. "I'll follow." "What are you doing here?" Lyle repeated. "I help in the mornings," she said. "I'm here early, get things prepared for the Father." "He's here?" "Nobody is," she said. "Nobody answers my calls. That's why I'm so scared." "We'll stay a while," sighed Lyle. She reached out a hand to them. "Thank you. I'm Delilah." Nolan reached his hand out to shake hers. The moment was something he took note of. He expected her to take his hand in grasp, but her hand was limp and unfocused until he touched it, then she smiled nicely and tightened her hand in his. Lyle observed as well. He took her hand without warning and shook it good. "Thank you both," said Delilah. "We'll stay a while here with you," Lyle said, and he inched a little smile. The two friends entered the church, now thick with silence and empty of the prayers of the night before. There was a slight feeling in his gut about the sky being so dark, but Lyle ignored it, for as he breathed the new air of the church, the pain in his chest was still too hard. ---- Lyle sat for a little while on the front pew. Here he rested his head on the denim jacket Nolan had given him to use as a pillow. Over by the window stood Nolan. The church lobby was long and cold with silence. "Would you like coffee?" Lyle opened an eye. There stood Delilah, offering a cup to Nolan. She had entered from a door on the left side of the lobby, a meeting room of staff. "Thank you," he said, and she smiled. Lyle observed her close. She turned to him. "You want a cup?" "I just had some." "I'll bring you a cup." Nolan grinned. "You help with the church?" "In the mornings. And on the weekends with the children who come here." "You're not scared anymore?" "I'm just so worried," said Delilah, "everyone should be here by now. I'm so worried." "We're here with you, no need to be scared." "Thanks. And I didn't get your name?" "Nolan," he said. "And that's my friend." "Here, I'll finish bringing the coffee for your friend," said Delilah, and she exited through the door. "We best get going," said Lyle, rising slightly on the pew, massaging his chest and throat. There was a long misery in his words. "Let's wait." "We best leave." "Well, where to?" "The city, like I said." "She's interesting." "We best not make any new friends." "Who said anything about that, you?" "Look, she's coming now." Nolan smiled. "Quiet, she'll hear you." "The clock has the time for eleven o'clock," said Delilah, entering the lobby with two cups of hot coffee. She walked towards Lyle on the pew encircled by a cloud of warm smoke. "It's still too dark." "Could be it'll rain," said Nolan. "But it's not dark clouds. It's black sky, darker than it's ever been." "Don't get scared now," said Lyle, accepting the coffee from her hands. "I'm not." Delilah clinked his cup with hers. "You were." "Not anymore," she said. "I've seen you here before. At night." "Can't be me." "You're lying." "We're in town visiting a little friend," said Nolan. "A little friend. But we were on our way today." "Glad to meet you both, Nolan, look how things turn out." Delilah turned towards the pews and sipped her coffee. "And you, I didn't get your name." Lyle drank his coffee silently and observed the way the woman spoke to the pews and not to him. She had done the same when she had entered with his coffee, making no effort for eye contact. The woman had done it before when opening the church doors for them. The way she acted when Nolan shook her hand. Lyle swallowed the coffee in a violent gulp. "I'm his friend, that's my name," said Lyle. "Nolan, you can do me a favor?" "Yeah." "Check outside, see if it's better." "Got it." "You're father is the priest here." "So you do go here." "I had my reasons. Needed peace while I was down here. And you, you're worried, that's fine, but it's an extra worried. You say you not scared, but I can see it in you." "I'm not. They'll come eventually." "I thank you for the coffee," Lyle said, putting his hand out for a fist bump. Delilah ignored it. He frowned slightly with more realization. "You make good coffee." "Thank you," she said. "You and Nolan are good people. And you're leaving town today?" "Eventually," he said. "Were you born here, or did you move?" "Born here. But I studied outside." "What for?" "Teaching." "You're a teacher, then?" "Music teacher. And you?" "I have a good business in the city. I take care of myself, my people. I have goals in my mind, of what I want to do. Every day I try to accomplish an inch. Like the soldiers in the war, in the trenches, every day gaining some inches of ground." "You're fighting over dirt?" Lyle smiled, a little embarrassed. "Is that how it sounded?" "I understood you. Here," she said, drinking the very last of her coffee. "Can you wash mine with yours?" "Yeah." "Use the sink in the bathroom, over there." "Yeah, I got you." "Thanks, I'm tired." "So you're a music teacher." "I play the piano." "Really." "It's my talent." "What's your music?" "Classical, actually." "That means something." "What?" Lyle smiled nicely and washed the cups, and he began to think aimlessly over the sink. These blank thoughts came to him in moments of peace. Over the sink, he sighed and dried his hands. "Your father is the priest," he said. "He's a good man to pray with." "You're really a believer?" "I follow the Christ," he said, entering the lobby. "Men follow me back in the city, but I kneel before God in my own way." "I believe that's how it is. We all got our own way." "You a smart woman." "You're friend's taking his time out there." Lyle turned to the lobby. There was a silent air from the church doors. "Nolan?" he barked. His friend emerged from the front doors with pale flesh and face. "There's men coming." "Men, what men?" "They don't look fine." "They police?" "They look angry." "We know them?" "They look angry and pissed." "How many?" "A group like seven or eight." "Lock the doors. Delilah, can you lock the doors?" "Who's the men?" asked Delilah. "Lock them please." "Okay," she said, and she walked through the lobby until Lyle grabbed her wrist lightly. "Can they see us through the windows?" "No, it's only one way." "Nolan," said Lyle, and the friends came together at the side of the pews by the windows. "You think it could be with us?" "I don't recognize them. Look for yourself." Approaching the church was a group of huddled men, limping along the sidewalk. They followed a man in front of them, in his hands a silver knife that shined in the dark. "Who are they?" "Let them pass." "They're coming here." "Don't make noise, let them pass." Lyle observed through the window. He could make out pale faces with twisted mouths. The faces were nothing familiar, regular faces on the street. Then his heart did calm, his fear of Rockefeller sending his men to finish him off subsided. Rockefeller was a politician, he just wasn't humanly fit to kill a fellow man, Lyle knew. "They're walking past us here," said Lyle. "They were pissed," said Nolan. "Yeah, they were armed." "With what!" Delilah shouted. "A knife," said Lyle, momentarily pausing in surprise of the truth rolling off his tongue. "We need to call the police." "You can go do that," said Lyle. "Nolan, she can go call the police if that's what she wants. You'll follow me?" "We're leaving?" "You're leaving?" asked Delilah. Lyle turned to her hesitantly. "We have to leave town afore this sky situation worsens," he lied. "You call the police yet?" "I've got bad connection. That's why my dad's not answering my calls." A knock broke the silence. "You didn't lock the doors?" Lyle said to her. "You didn't give me a chance." The doors opened. Emerged through the doors two men, alike as brothers, one of light stature with black hair, and the other with a wide chest and long shoulders wearing a red and black flannel shirt. They staggered forth, holding onto each other as if for dear life, two men with the desperation of two castaways on a deserted island. "It's Elias and Blake," said Delilah. "I recognize their voices." "Put your hands up," Lyle said. "Why you guys walking around with a knife?" "It wasn't them," said Nolan. "I didn't see them in the group." "Please lower your voices," said the small man, gasping for air, his throat full of fright. "They'll hear you." "Who, the men?" "Yes, they're outside. Please whisper." "Blake, tell me," said Delilah. "What's happening with the men?" "Oh, Delilah," cried Blake, the small man falling onto his knees. "Please lock the doors. Hurry." Delilah turned towards Lyle, facing him but not looking at him. Lyle noticed this nervously. "I'll lock them," he said. "Nolan, watch these two dudes." "You need to lock the doors," said Blake. "I locked them, I got it people," said the other man, his flannel shirt like a red flag to Lyle's bull eyes. The man's tone was nothing short of irritating to Lyle. "What's your name?" Lyle asked the man. "Elias is my name," said the man, and he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pistol. He pulled it up and leveled it to Lyle's chest. "What's this for?" "I don't know you. I know Delilah, but I don't trust any you three people. You could be one of the people that attacked us. I could be wrong. And I could be right, so stay back." "They're fine!" shouted Blake. "You don't know that," said Elias. "I used this once already, and I'll use it again." "Whisper, oh God, you too Elias, just whisper." "You killed somebody?" asked Nolan. "I shot some man who attacked us in the supermarket. Outside was dark. Then the lights inside failed." "Everything got so dark," said Blake. "A few men entered the store. You could see their pale faces. They got some people, but we escaped." "Did they have a knife?" "One of them did." "They walked past here just a moment ago," said Nolan, and they all saw the terror born in Elias's eyes. A fist knocked on the front door. "Oh God," said Blake. "Get this gun off me," said Lyle. The fist knocked again. "They heard your voices," cried Blake. The four men turned to face the front doors, an unknown terror filling them. Elias lowered the weapon to his side. More fists knocked on the front door. "Lyle? Is that your name?" asked Delilah. "Don't be scared now." "How many are there?" Dozens of hands thundered against the wooden front doors. "I don't know. Same group as before. Can't you look and see yourself?" "I can't." "What you mean?" "I'm blind." "What!" Something crashed through one of the side windows. "Oh God," said Blake. "They threw a rock." "I got them now," Elias said. He leveled his pistol on the broken window. The fists pounded on the doors, but the window was peaceful. He couldn't make out anything in the dark void of the window. "Come on," said Elias. "You'll shoot them?" asked Nolan. Elias nodded. "But the police," said Delilah. "No police," said Elias. "We already tried." "The police aren't on our side anymore," cried Blake, rubbing tears from eyes. "Shoot, please, they're going to get in through the broken window, shoot, please!" "Come on," said Elias again. The broken window was still peaceful. Elias waited one more moment. It was too dark for him to see anybody. Lyle looked to Nolan. The two friends locked eyes on Elias. They didn't know whether to trust him or tackle him. Blake and Delilah screamed endlessly against the crashing of fists against the doors. In that moment, Elias fired. ---- Issues